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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398444">Bookworm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyDelaney/pseuds/DarcyDelaney'>DarcyDelaney</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Date Night, Fluff, M/M, brewery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:46:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyDelaney/pseuds/DarcyDelaney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas asks Dean to spend the day reading with him at a brewery. It's not Dean's ideal date at first, but it doesn't stop him from falling in love with Cas all over again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bookworm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Saw a couple doing this at a brewery a year or so ago, thought it was the sweetest, simplest date idea, and haven't been able to get it out of my head since. </p><p>Figured we could all use something a little sweet today to offset all the emotions from filming wrapping up. Sending hugs to anyone who needs one &lt;3.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don’t give me that look.”</p><p>“I’m not giving you <em> any </em> look.”</p><p>“We’re going to a brewery; you should be happy.”</p><p>Dean sighs—and if it’s longer and more drawn out than it has to be, well, that’s not his problem. “Yeah, if we were going on a tour or to play games and shoot the shit.” He palms around the bench of the Impala until his hand lands on his copy of <em> Tenth of December</em>. He holds it up and shakes it in the general direction of Cas’ face. “Not <em> read</em>.”</p><p>“Here’s an idea,” Cas says, snatching the book out of Dean’s hand. “You try things before dismissing them.”</p><p>“I’ll dismiss <em> you </em> right out of this fucking car.”</p><p>Cas smacks Dean’s arm with it then, and Dean chuckles. “Fuck off,” he says, shoving playfully at Cas before turning his full attention back to the road. </p><p>Dean watches out of his periphery as Cas drops his sunglasses down over his eyes before fanning his own book out, running his thumb along the pages with a drumming <em> thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip</em>. The thing’s a monster, and in retrospect, Dean should be glad Cas hadn’t smacked him with it instead of his thin little paperback. </p><p>“Expecting to have to prop some doors open?” he asks, nodding down at the dog-earned, tabbed copy of <em> Infinite Jest </em> that Cas has chosen to haul along.</p><p>“Sam says it’s a masterpiece.”</p><p>Dean shrugs. “<em>House of Leaves </em> was better.”</p><p>Cas just turns up the radio in response.</p><p> </p><p>As Dean eases the Impala down the path toward the brewery’s main entrance, he can’t help but crane his neck up at the massive WELCOME sign held up by two thick wooden pillars, the bottoms of which are encased in concrete. It’s reminiscent of Jurassic Park, minus the massive doors, torches, and sense of impending doom.</p><p>“You wanna watch <em> Jurassic Park </em> tonight?” he asks idly.</p><p>“Original?”</p><p>Dean scoffs. “Obviously; who the hell do you think I am?”</p><p>Cas grins down at the book in his lap, then looks up at Dean. “You could’ve brought the book, you know.”</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes as they pull into one of the last empty spots in the lot. “Maybe next time.” Throwing the Impala in park, he scoops up his book, brushing his lips against Cas’ jaw in a quick kiss along the way. “Gotta hurry before all the good reading spots are gone, nerd.”</p><p>It’s a beautiful day, and they’re not the only ones who’d decided to take advantage. The place is packed, people lounging in Adirondack chairs that dot the small, grassy hill behind the building, kids playing tag nearby. A section devoted entirely to cornhole and other lawn games is set up right next to where a couple of food trucks are set up, offering everything from ribs to artisan grilled cheeses.</p><p>Dean can’t help but look back longingly as Cas drags him past everything and into the tap line. “All the date ideas around here,” he grumbles, “and you go and pick the nerdiest.”</p><p>Cas shakes his head, angling his head up and planting a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I believe ‘nerdiest’ went to your insistence for a Batman and Robin couples cosplay last year.”</p><p>“Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining before <em> or </em> after that con,” Dean says with a wink. “That cosplay was multipurpose.”</p><p>Teeth tugging subtly on his bottom lip, Cas takes a few seconds to be anything but in the way his eyes start at Dean’s boots and make their way up, up, up to his eyes. Dean leans into the warmth Cas’ gaze ignites through his body, feeling pinned by his gaze in the best kind of way.</p><p>“It was.” Cas’ voice is rougher than usual, and Dean’s dick twitches in interest just before a switch (a very, very frustrating switch, if Dean’s being honest) flips, and Cas winks before nudging Dean innocently with his hip, gesturing with his chin toward the line of beer taps. “Which one do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>Not long after they find seats across from each other at a picnic table under the main pavilion next to the brewery itself, a salt-and-pepper black lab comes ambling over, leash trailing behind him on the concrete. Dean can’t help but think that Sam would be in his heyday here, especially when the dog starts sniffing at him and Cas.</p><p>“Hey, buddy,” he says, chuckling as the dog rests his head in Dean’s lap, tongue lolling out and eyes darting up toward Dean’s beer as Dean scratches behind his ear. “Can I see your ID?”</p><p>It doesn’t take long for a redheaded woman with oversized headphones draped around her neck to come hurrying after him, slapping her leg while digging into her back pocket for a treat. “Ghüs! Ugh, Ghüs, leave them alone.” She holds out a peace offering, which Ghüs gladly snarfs down, before looking up at him and Cas and flashing them an apologetic smile. “Sorry, dudes,” she says. “Still working on manners here. Carry on.” With a quick Vulcan salute, she and Ghüs are gone.</p><p>Amused, Dean watches them as they go, grinning to himself when he sees her loop Ghüs’ leash around another table leg before leaning in to kiss a woman wearing a tan leather jacket on the head. When Dean turns his attention back to the table, it’s to see Cas already looking at him, a fond little smile playing at his lips, and Dean grins. “Jealous?” he asks, patting his thigh. </p><p>His boyfriend’s cheeks go pink, but he rolls his eyes. “Of a dog who can’t drink? Hardly.” At that, he raises his beer, careful not to let the foam slosh over the edge of the glass, and waits for Dean to do the same. </p><p>“Cheers,” Dean says, clinking their glasses together before closing his eyes and taking a drink. “To, uh, literature. Or whatever.”</p><p>Cas smiles, and Dean’s gotta work fast to stop the heart eyes that are liable to start forming when he watches Cas wipe away beer foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand. “Or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean shifts in his seat and sighs. He likes to read, but he also likes to do so when he’s comfortable, and he can’t think of many places <em> less </em> comfortable than a backless picnic table bench. He tucks one foot under himself, then the other, adjusting his weight until he’s sitting cross-legged, balancing awkwardly on the bench. It’s somehow still better than the alternative, and, taking a long swig of his beer, he settles in for some reading.</p><p>Oddly enough, it actually isn’t that bad of a place to get lost for a while. He can feel the sun pleasantly warm on his back, the low hum of the folks around them at just enough of a buzz for him to take it in as background noise, but nothing more.</p><p>Starting in on the next story, he makes a mental note to thank Benny for turning him onto Saunders in the first place. He’s a few pages in when he hears an insistent tapping coming from nearby. He tries to ignore it; they might be at a brewery, but he didn’t miss the families there as well, so he brushes it off as kids getting into shit. The tapping stops soon after it started, and Dean takes another sip of his beer in silent victory, taking care to make sure none of the condensation drips down onto the pages.</p><p>
  <em> Tap tap tap. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tap tap tap. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tap tap tap tap tap tap— </em>
</p><p>“Do you hear that?” Dean’s head shoots up in frustration, expecting to see Cas looking even more annoyed than he feels, but instead he just sees the crown of Cas’ head, his face still buried in his book. Dean looks down to the tabletop and sees Cas’ hand out, palm up. When he doesn’t move, Cas curls his fingers toward the center of his palm.</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes, but can’t help the grin on his face as he takes Cas’ hand, letting their fingers twine together. “Fine, you big baby,” he says, prompting Cas to give his hand a gentle squeeze.</p><p>The tapping stops after that.</p><p> </p><p>Dean tries to go back to his book, he really does, but no matter what, Cas is what keeps drawing his attention, Cas and his uncanny ability to make even the simplest things better. Using his elbow to prop his book open (which is probably damaging the spine, which would probably drive Cas up a goddamn wall), Dean rests his chin in his hand and just watches. He watches as his boyfriend wets his lips before sipping his beer; as his mouth forms the words silently as he reads; as he strokes his thumb along the back of Dean’s hand.</p><p>And something clicks, and Dean finally, <em> finally </em> gets where Cas is coming from—this is a chance for them to be together, sure, but it’s also a chance for them to just <em> be</em>. Dean can just sit here and take Cas, <em> his Cas</em>, in, in all his endearing, nerdy, no-nonsense glory.</p><p>Keeping his hand in Dean’s, Cas rests his elbow on his book for a second to hold his place, then runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it along the stubble dotting his jaw. He does it all without a second thought, as if he hadn’t just made Dean’s throat go dry and his heart clench with want and pride and love, all in one swift movement.</p><p>Dean wonders if he even knows he’s doing it.</p><p>Cas looks up not too long after that, brows furrowed together at the goddamn doe-eyes Dean must be making. “What?”</p><p>Yeah, he <em> definitely </em> doesn’t know he’s doing it. And somehow, that makes it even better.</p><p>Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Nothin'. Hey, you want another beer?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost twilight by the time Cas suggests packing up. Dean’s fingers have stained the pages of his book with grease from ribs and an order of cheese fries, and as much as he hates to admit it, he actually didn’t mind today. He <em> might </em> even consider it when it’s his turn to choose the date next time, and he can already picture Cas’ reaction: the double-take, the head tilt, the slow smile when he realizes it’s not a joke. </p><p>So sue him, Dean’s already looking forward to it.</p><p>They gather up their trash and empties, and are heading back to the Impala when Cas stops short, making Dean jerk to a halt as well to avoid spilling ketchup and fry grease on the back of Cas’ shirt.</p><p>“You good?”</p><p>“Actually…” Cas trails off, but before Dean can react, Cas shoves his book unceremoniously into Dean’s hands. “Wait here.”</p><p>“What—where’re you—<em> shit </em>,” Dean mutters as something lands on top of the books with a light smack: a small blue bean bag. When he looks up, startled, his eyes land on Cas standing in front of one of the cornhole sets, the small, square canvas bags in alternating colors of blue and green nestled in his arms like so many tiny puppies. Dean glances down at the bag in his hand, then back up at Cas, and goddamn it if the grin on his face doesn’t get just a little bit wider.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>Cas smiles back, first without teeth, but then he shows off that bright, gummy smile Dean can’t get enough of as he holds out a green bag. He tosses their trash into the garbage, careful to line their empty glasses up in a neat row, and sets the books down. He reaches out for the bag, but just as his fingers brush the canvas, Cas pulls back.</p><p>“Two conditions.”</p><p>“Name ‘em.”</p><p>Cas fumbles with the bags in his hands, struggling not to drop any as he shifts his weight. “One: don’t laugh at me.”</p><p>Dean chuckles, then his eyes go wide when Cas’ face goes hard. “No, no, no, that didn’t count!”</p><p>Cas studies him for a second, then smiles again, holding out the green bag.</p><p>“Two: just one game.”</p><p>Dean pauses, pretending to consider this. After a second, he makes to grab the bag, but wraps his fingers around Cas’ wrist instead. He pulls him forward against his chest and looks down at the bags in Cas’ arms—<em>I love you, </em> they say<em>, I love you and I’m willing to risk embarrassing myself for something you enjoy, but don’t you dare make a fool out of me, Dean Winchester, or you’re sleeping on the couch</em>—before using his free hand to tilt Cas’ chin up. He takes a few seconds to just look at him, a few seconds more to wonder how he got so goddamn lucky, and then leans in for a kiss—<em>thank you, </em> it says, <em> I love you, you’re incredible, I’ve got you, Castiel Novak</em>. “Just one game.”</p>
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